


Misfire

by lyllytas



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Apologies, Communication Failure, Drinking, Fights, M/M, Miscommunication, Post-Canon, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22364866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyllytas/pseuds/lyllytas
Summary: After the world doesn't end, Aziraphale and Crowley go drinking. Aziraphale says the wrong thing and has to set it right
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	Misfire

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 of Clearing out my drafts. I'm pretty sure this is one of the oldest Good Omens fics I've ever written. I had planned on writing a second half of this, but I never did, so have a short fic

Aziraphale knows Crowley is painfully shy. It would be endearing in another life, but it's torture to him, because Demons, they are _not_ awkward, soft, or shy. He doesn't fit in to the slot he's been crammed into, he's a sheep among wolves and just trying to stay alive. His 'oh so suave' front keeps digging him into holes, writing checks he can't cash and getting him into trouble. Crowley hides behind dark glasses, but even that can't hide his feelings completely. He's a bumbling disaster who keeps finding himself in way too deep and unprepared when things happen.

And things do keep happening. A person might think that after six thousand years he'd have some experience with _this_ sort of thing, but he doesn't. Because Aziraphale had always said _no_ before; had put him off. Crowley had pinned and yearned, _oh_ how he yearned, and this time he'd expected things to be the same. Because that's how they'd _always_ been. Aziraphale draws the line between them and never crosses it.

But Aziraphale had taken him up on his offer.

Kept taking him up on his offers; _Stay at my place? Tempt you to lunch? Would you like to split open a bottle of wine, the world's still here after all?_ Crowley doesn't know what to do when everything falls into place, and Aziraphale keeps looking at him with that oh so soft expression. It's _tenderness_ and _kindness_ and things he hasn't felt in a very long time. Aziraphale is blurring the boundaries and Crowley doesn't _know_ what to do.

<~~>

One bottle has turned into three as they drink in the backroom and the hours have slipped by them unnoticed.

The backroom is warm, but not the kind heat that warns of fire or impending doom, more like the kind of warmth that feels like being hugged by a sunny spring day. Crowley's wine glass dangles precariously between his fingers, his shades are off because Aziraphale has only turned on one very pitiful old lamp.

Crowley's pupils are huge to make up for the poor lighting. Black pools in a sea of gold. "I don't see why you keep that thing around." He scoffs at the dingy lamp that should have been replaced by now. It's a relic.

"Because your eyes are so _very_ pretty and you hardly ever show them anymore."

Crowley makes a noise. That hadn't been what he had been expecting Aziraphale to say. Sure, Crowley preferred it dimmer because bright light kind of stung, hence the sunglasses. He just didn't expect the angel to care. Aziraphale wasn't sticking to their script. _Pretty._

“Well, after the whole witch burning debacle, it was just an easier way to deal with the humans. Keep 'em covered." Crowley finally manages.

"But it's just the two of us. You don't have to hide from me.” Aziraphale looks to him. “You said it earlier, we're on _our_ side."

Crowley swallows, unable to respond, his grip tightening on his glass.

Aziraphale sighs. "I keep thinking about how close I came to losing you, and it's unbearable." Aziraphale is staring down into his wine glass carefully not meeting his eyes, which is fine, because his eyes are filled with panic and he's seconds from bolting. "You said you lost your best friend. That was me. Wasn't it?"

"You're the only one around worth befriending, I suppose." Crowley manages.

"Is that all I am?" Aziraphale looks at him.

"Wot?" Crowley strangled nerves bubble out.

"A _friend_?" Aziraphale looks up from his glass his gaze swinging to Crowley's lips.

Crowley swallows, and wets his lips, this conversation is becoming dangerous, and Aziraphale watches that too.

"Aziraphale, you're drunk."

"Maybe a little.” He shrugs. “Angels can't possess people, but I did that anyway. Maybe I want to try something else."

"Like what?" Crowley asks, trying to get the conversation back on level ground.

"Well tempting has always been your thing, but I thought I'd give it another go. It's been ages,” He shifts. “and I'm not with upstairs anymore."

"You?” Crowley laughs at the thought. Of Aziraphale tempting just because he could. “Who would you tempt now?" He takes a sip from his glass trying to soothe his nerves.

"I thought I'd start with you."

 **"ME?"** He splutters. "What would you temp me with?" Fame and fortune are hardly things that he wants. He already has power. Aziraphale will have to think to think of something truly clever if he wanted to tempt him.

“I was thinking..., maybe _me?”_

“No.” That does it. He is out of the chair and he puts his glass down too hard on the table. The glass stem snaps and wine sloshes to the floor. “Leave the tempting to me.” He storms out of the room without meeting the blonds eyes or listening to his protests.

Aziraphale stares in shock for a moment at the space Crowley had previously occupied before he moves forward to wave away the broken glass.

<~~>

Crowley is missing. It's been days. The angel has been tearing through London trying to locate him since calling up his mobile wasn't working and visits to his flat were getting him nowhere. It's almost a relief when Aziraphale sees that familiar shock of copper; he was worried that Crowley had decided to sleep off his anger again.

Of course Crowley is at a bar when the angel finds him.

“What could you possibly want?” Crowley says as Aziraphale slides into the seat in front of him. There are at least three empty bottles on the table, and the demon is working on the fourth.

“I was _worried_ about you.”

“Oh sure, now you're worried.” Crowley sneers.

“I've been worried for days.” Aziraphale squawks. “You won't answer your phone, you haven't been at your flat, and the Bentley is at some random carpark.”

“Didn't want you to find me on account of my car.” Crowley huffs. “And yet here you are.” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh, Crowley, I was trying to be _clever_ the other day.” Aziraphale runs his hands through his hair, “but I've botched it up. _Oh,_ if you're going to ignore me for the rest of time, I'd like to at least know I told you my piece.”

“Your piece?” He scoffs. “You were mocking me! Do you have an excuse for that?”

“I wasn't mocking!” Aziraphale tries to defend himself.

“You were! 'Ooh, I'm an angel, I possessed someone, I tempted before, so why don't I give it another go. _And_ why don't I stomp on your feelings while I'm at it?'” He grinds his teeth. “Do you have any idea what the Fall was like?" He snarls. "Being cast out of Heaven? It wasn't a flick of the wrist, feather change.” Crowley gestures wildly. “Boiling pools of sulfur. We. _Burned.”_

Crowley grabs a bottle, brings it to his lips to drain the last bit. He bangs the empty bottle on the table and Aziraphale jumps a bit. Crowley points a finger at him. “And you come along and think you'd like to put what we went through on like an actor stepping into a costume? Do you think you're special because for who knows what reason _she_ hasn't done it to _you?_ ”

“Crowley,” He protests, “you're the dearest person in my life! I would never hurt you intentionally!

“But you did!”

“I'm sorry! It didn't think it was a big deal.”

“That's your problem. You don't think!”

“I was trying, I wanted to...” He stammers.

“You wanted to what?” Crowley huffs.

“I wanted to tell you I love you! I absolutely adore you! I look at you and want to do decidedly unangelic things, and my heart aches because I feel incomplete, but I thought if I said that, it'd scare you off, so I was trying to, I don't know, do things more your speed.”

_“Oh.”_

“I'm so sorry I hurt you. I'm an idiot.” Aziraphale sighs glumly and looks upwards, trying not to cry. “I didn't mean to make light of your pain. You were always reaching out to me, and I always shot you down. But I was trying to let you know that I'm _on_ our side entirely now.” He twists his hands. “I just... I'd done tempted before and it was never a big deal, I thought that it was fine. But it clearly isn't. Oh, I went about it entirely wrong. I'm so sorry. I understand if you want nothing to do with me now. What I did was like rubbing salt into an open wound.”

“You're the dumbest.” Crowley says. “You're an absolute knob.”

“I am.” He wipes at his eyes. “I'll go now. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And ask you for forgiveness.”

“No.”

“Pardon?”

“I'm a demon. We don't do _forgivenesss.”_ He lets his voice draw out as he leans over the table, tapping twice on Aziraphale's chest.

**“Do. Better.”**

Aziraphale swallows. “I don't know how!” He cries. “I've _never_ know!”

He sighs. “I don't know why I'm still an angel. I don't know how we got through everything with the antichrist and the end of the world. I don't know how to say I'm _sorry.”_ He drops his head into his hands. "And I don't know how to live without you. You've my only real friend for all these years, and I don't know why you ever put up with me"

"I almost lost you at the end of the world because I was too scared, and I _truly_ believed there was still a chance to fix things. I may be the single most obtuse being on the whole planet. I'm so sorry.” Tears slide down his face.

“I suppose it's good for you then that I'm here to straighten out your messes.”

Aziraphale's head shoots up.

“I mean, you usually take care of mine.” Crowley pauses. “I'm still bloody mad at you.” He sighs. “But I think there's been a bit of miscommunication.” He purses his lips. “I'm going to sober up. Hold on.” He forces the alcohol out of his bloodstream and back into the bottles. He makes a face at the taste it leaves in his mouth.

A waiter stops by their table with a bottle of the 2007 Klein Constantia Vin de Constance and two glasses, though they aren't quite sure why. They pour them both a glass and leave the bottle.

Crowley fiddles with his glass. “Right then. You love me.”

“I do...”

“And I love you.”

“You do...?”

“Someone knows _why._ ” He rolls his eyes. “You were trying to be smart, and I over-reacted, as usual.” He takes a sip from his glass. He wishes they were back home, in his flat, so he wouldn't have to deal with logistics.

And then they are.

Aziraphale looks around for a moment, still holding his wineglass.

“Did you just... Move us both all the way across London?”

“I guess?” Crowley blinks a few times. “Oh, hey look, the wine came too.” He picks up his glass and sits on his couch. Aziraphale takes in the dark flat around him and then decides to join him.

<~~>

Crowley drinks like he hadn't spent the last couple of days trying to find the bottom of bottle.

“Look'it Aziraphale. I'm not mad you _didn't_ Fall. Who knows what rules God even plays by." Crowley rolls his eyes. "Let her have all her _mysterious_ _ways._ However, I'm absolutely livid for myself. I mean you told everybody upstairs to shove off, dove your way back down to Earth and found your own body to make it to the end of the world with. If you can do all that and still not fall, then how was what I did that bad?”

He slumps over onto Aziraphale's lap. Aziraphale sets both wineglasses to the side and plays with Crowley's hair.

“I did kind of leap down." He says. "I wanted to get back to you.”

Crowley flings himself up, “I'm mad at you cause of _how_ you went about telling me.”

“Yes. I know I was _wrong.”_ Aziraphale touches his face. “I'm _terribly_ sorry I hurt you.”

"Not just that. I don't want to be _tempted._ I want to be with you because it's what I want. I don't wanna tempt you. I don't want you to tempt me either." Crowley bites his lip and closes his eyes. “I'm kind of glad for you though... Falling hurts. Wouldn't want to see you go through that.”

He settles back into Aziraphale's lap - it's comfy. “We can figure things out. We'll make this work. I'm projecting onto you. Fair warning, I'm a bit of a mess. If you get involved, you'll have to put up with that.”

“Crowley. If you haven't noticed, I'm a bit of a mess myself. Let's just try and make our messes fit together.” Aziraphale touches Crowley's cheek.

“Yeah.” Crowley puts his hand over Aziraphale's. “I think I'd like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
